


Matchmaking

by SakuraMacarons



Category: Grand Stage
Genre: Danchou ships it., Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 11:08:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18248612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SakuraMacarons/pseuds/SakuraMacarons
Summary: Prior to Ryoya and her partner being paired up for the Phantom of the Opera auditions, the head of Grand Stage meets with the prospective performers and makes a decision.





	Matchmaking

**Author's Note:**

> Please, imagine if you will, an over-the-top Sugita Tomokazu voicing Danchou.

“The lead role, hm?” From his place behind his desk (his least favorite place to be), the head of the Grand Stage theater company thoughtfully surveyed the young woman sitting across from him. He didn’t know Subaru Ryoya quite as well as his other children who attended the company school, but he knew enough of her family background and seen enough of her skills to conclude she was more than capable of handling it. “That’s rather ambitious.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, doing her best to subdue her unyielding confidence beneath a layer of respectful modesty. There was nothing insincere about her; it was clear she believed in the talents she spent countless hours cultivating with disciplined and rigorous training, but because of her strict upbringing, she also knew how to be humble in the presence of her superiors. But even if she softened her disposition, things like the proud way she held herself, and how she never averted her eyes gave her away. “I—“

He casually waved off whatever explanation she was prepared to give him and shook his head. “No one said ambition is a bad thing. And honestly, I’m as confident as you are in your abilities.”

He didn’t miss it, the way she slightly relaxed, and it pleased him that even this self-assured woman – the daughter of a famous kabuki family who had practically been born on stage – was nervous in front of him.

“It’s okay, Subaru-kun. I’m meeting with the finalists who have been chosen to audition for the roles in this production. You’ve made my job easier by aiming for the role I feel suits you best.” As much as he might have enjoyed prolonging their discussion to learn more about the rookie otokoyaku, what he had said was true; he would be meeting with the other performers, so time wasn’t a luxury they had. “There’s one concern I’d like to address.”

“A concern?” she repeated questioningly.

“Yes, just one,” he reiterated, watching with amusement as she silently ran through what it could be. “You’re an undeniably strong performer. Your acting, singing and dancing are all on par with some of our more experienced members of the troop. You would be an asset to any cast you join, but to put it bluntly, you don’t always play nicely with others.”

For her part, Ryoya had taken all of his compliments with grace and dignity, but when he reached his criticism, her mouth fell open in shock as she tried and failed to articulate any kind of response.

As if he hadn’t noticed her reaction, he continued genially, “Don’t get me wrong, you aren’t instigating fights with hair-pulling or eye-gouging. You’re just rather solitary and only work with others as far as it is required of you. Couple that with your tendency to have high expectations of yourself and hold others to those same standards, and it can make you rather difficult to approach.”

“That’s…fair,” she conceded quietly, not that he had expected an argument from her.

“In that case, will you be able to handle working so closely and constantly for two weeks with whichever musumeyaku auditioning for Christine we choose to pair you with?”

Without a trace of hesitation, she answered, “Yes.”

“Good. I think that’s all I wanted to cover.”

Taking that as her cue to leave so the next person could enter, Ryoya stood. She bowed and thanked him, and turned for the door.

“Oh, one more thing, Subaru-kun,” he said, his voice stopping her hand on the doorknob, “Don’t lower your standards – not for yourself, and not for your partner.”

“Yes. Thank you, sir,” she replied, and after a second, politely left his office, obliviously unaware of the plans he had in store for her. Now all he needed was the perfect musumeyaku to set them in motion.

* * *

She was one of the last few remaining girls he had to see that evening. He had already worked his way through the list of otokoyaku and musumeyaku auditioning for named roles in The Phantom of the Opera earlier that day, and was now left with those who were simply auditioning for minor roles or just spots in the ensemble.

“Excuse me,” she called politely when she appeared in the doorway. Only after he looked up in acknowledgement of her voice did she step inside and close the door behind her.

At first glance, Endo Shiori was not the kind of musumeyaku who stood out or grabbed someone’s attention. She was certainly cute, but in a subtle way. Her light brown hair was cut in a simple style that fell in layers to her shoulders and framed her face. It surprised him how petite she was compared to some of the other musumeyaku he had seen that day; if she was to be part of the ensemble, she’d definitely be overshadowed by her fellow performers. But if he had to decide on something about her that really caught his notice, it was her eyes. They were a vivid shade of blue, but more than the color, it was the expressiveness they held. No, it wasn’t just her eyes; her face gave everything away about how she was feeling. Her emotions openly played across her features, and he found that to be a rather intriguing trait for a performer to have.

“Please sit down,” he said when it became apparent she was waiting for his permission.

She obediently complied, clasping her hands in front of her on the desk, but shyly avoided meeting his gaze.

“Endo…Ah no, Shiori-chan, is it?” he lightly asked, deciding she hardly looked like the type to be called by her last name.

“Umm…yes?” she answered uncertainly, but at least she was looking at him now.

“Why the ensemble? Why not a bigger role?” It was his job to ask the uncomfortable questions sometimes, and it seemed he had done just that as she startled at his directness.

“I’m not a star,” she said after she worked through some moments of silent contemplation. “I’ve always admired Grand Stage for as long as I can remember, and it’s enough for me to be able to support the ones who can shine brighter than me.”

So she was that kind of performer. Someone who accepted they had mediocre talents at best and would use them to boost those they thought were better.

“But don’t you want to be Shirayuri no Hime?” he prompted, studying her reaction to the question.

And just like he anticipated, at the mention of the title given to those special musumeyaku chosen by Akabara no Kimi to be their partner, Shiori’s eyes lit up and she dreamily echoed the name as if it was more precious than life itself. For the musumeyaku of Grand Stage, the role of Shirayuri no Hime was akin to being Cinderella fitted with the glass slipper and becoming a fairytale princess with an enchanted palace and pegasus-drawn carriages.

“It’s always been my dream to be Shirayuri no Hime,” she softly confessed. “But…”

“But nothing!” he loudly cut across her, which, he realized a second too late, was probably intimidating. No matter, he kept going while she cowered, “Grand Stage is a place where dreams come true! Surely you haven’t forgotten our motto?” His hands came down with a loud crash on his desk – disturbing a few piles of paperwork. “But that means working hard to see those dreams fulfilled. Why give your all to push someone else to the top when it’s your own dream to succeed?”

“I…I’m sorry,” she squeaked out, shrinking as far back as possible into the back of her chair.

He suddenly stilled. That stuttered apology caused something to stir in his memory, and as if he was looking at Endo Shiori for the very first time, he stared at her. Really stared. He vividly remembered seeing her a few weeks ago at the nyuudanshiki – not just as someone entering the troop, but from an incident he had been an unknown spectator to.

“You!” he shouted, getting to his feet in a grand flurry of movement. “It is you, isn’t it?” he continued to himself, unaware of the girl’s growing discomfort. He rounded his desk and stood beside her, his gaze laser-focused on her face. “What a lucky turn of events.” He smiled a little knowing smile.

“Dan…chou?” she tried, more than a little off-put by his rambling. She had no idea what he was talking about and wasn’t sure if she wanted to know how it pertained to her.

“Endo Shiori, rise up and sing!” he commanded, taking a magnificent step backwards to give her room to spread her wings.

“What?” she helplessly faltered, as if the concept of singing was foreign to her.

“Sing!” he repeated, perhaps more emphatically than the first time.

He wanted her to sing? It was simple and straight forward, and something Shiori was qualified to do, but…

As she sat there gazing up at him in wonder, she suddenly felt completely out of her depth. “…But I haven’t warmed up recently,” she weakly protested, anxiously lowering her eyes and studying her clasped hands.

“Grand Stage performers do not hide behind excuses,” he lightly admonished the young musumeyaku, his previous exuberance suddenly sobering. “If you have a dream, it is your responsibility to strive for it with all your heart. I believe in your potential, so sing, and show me my faith isn’t misplaced.” As he spoke, his voice, once more, regained its fervor with each passing second.

Empowered by his words, she pushed aside her reluctance and did as she was told. At least, she climbed to her feet and ignored her shaking legs. “What do you want me to sing?” she asked, still trying to figure out what was going on.

“Do you know any of Christine’s songs?”

“Of course!” she exclaimed, finding his enthusiasm to be infectious. She absolutely didn’t know any of Christine’s lines, but she had bought a DVD of one of Grand Stage’s previous productions of The Phantom of the Opera from several years ago, and at least she knew the songs from how often she would sing them around her home.

He nodded, “Then, my little songbird, any of those will do.”

So, she sang. She was nervous and her voice trembled, but she held her head high and sang of the depth of Christine’s love for Phantom. And Danchou said nothing until the end of her impromptu performance. She was sure she had done poorly, so was more than just a bit struck speechless by his next words.

“I want you to audition for Christine,” he said.

“That’s impossible,” Shiori immediately blurted out, “The finalists for the role of Christine have already been decided. I was never even a consideration.”

Did this silly girl really forget who she was talking to? He was the boss, after all; he had the authority to make executive decisions like this. “What I said before wasn’t simply lip service, Shiori-chan. I truly do believe there is a talent sleeping inside of you. All you need is for your Phantom to come and awaken it.” he continued cryptically. “So, will you do it?”

Shiori didn’t really believe she could become Christine, but still, there was something about the hopeful look in Danchou’s eyes that made her want to strive for that role. “Yes,” she finally answered with more self-confidence than she was feeling.

Yes. With that single word, Shiori set into motion his glorious plan. And what a plan it was. In the beginning, he had only meant to find a musumeyaku who would allow Ryoya to feel more connected to the role of Phantom, but not a single one of the candidates even came close – not until Shiori sweetly and unassumingly appeared to him as the answer to all his prayers.

What he had not counted on was the delicious twist of fate that brought those two together again.

He remembered the starry-eyed musumeyaku colliding with the arrogant otokoyaku and the short, practically one-sided conversation that followed. What was it Ryoya had said to her? _‘As an otokoyaku myself, I pity whoever will become your partner.’_ But he didn’t think self-pity suited Subaru Ryoya at all. And even more interesting was the way Shiori had gazed after her retreating back – torn between anger and wonder. Would this be a match made in Heaven? Or perhaps a match made in Hell?

Fleetingly, he recalled the old saying about getting burned if you played with matches, and wondered if the same could be said about matchmaking. Either way, there was definitely going to be a fire, but whether or not someone got burned was out of his control.

_‘I leave the rest in your hands, Subaru-kun.’_

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a fun little one-shot I wrote a few years ago that I'm just now getting around to posting up. I hope you've enjoyed reading it!


End file.
